We Belong Together
by Victoria to Worthing
Summary: Formerly known as FUN AND GAMES! Claire, Charlie, and Hurley hang out and have fun... but what happens when feelings get in the way of their friendship? This story focuses on all three of them equally. This story is discontinued and now AU.
1. Top 5

Author's note: My first Lost fic! Whoohoo! It will have more chapters. This is just a fun little set-up. Please review!

"I'm going to go try to get some fruit, OK? Do you need anything? You alright? How's Turnip-head?" Charlie asked.

"I'm fine, and don't call him that anymore!" Claire replied, rolling her eyes.

"Sorry, sorry. I'll be back soon." He ruffled her hair and kissed Aaron on the forehead, then strode away toward the jungle.

Claire sighed and laid back on the sand, laying Aaron on her chest. Truthfully, she would have preferred to be the one walking off and saying goodbye. It would have been nice to walk through camp alone for once, just Claire. She was beginning to doubt that she would ever feel like "Claire" again. She had gone through a series of new names since her arrival on the island. "Claire, The Pregnant Girl." "Claire Who Got Kidnapped." "Claire Who Lost Her Baby." "Claire and the Baby" (or "Claire and Turnip-head," if Charlie was speaking ).

Now she was "Claire and Aaron," or on the rare occasion she let someone take the baby for a while, "Claire and Charlie." She wouldn't trade Aaron or her friendship (or maybe more?) with Charlie for anything, but she was beginning to forget what part of the equation "Claire" even was.

It was strange that just as she considered the loss of her given name, it was called out. "Claire!"

She looked up and saw Hurley meandering past in his usual style, half elephant on promenade through the jungle, half surfer-dude checking out the waves. She lifted one hand and lazily waved, and she expected him to return the gesture and move on, but he broke with tradition and padded across the sand to her shelter. He flopped down next to her, claiming a corner of her blanket and providing a little bit of shade from the sun. "Top five things from civilization that you wish you had on the island. Go!"

"Huh?" Claire responded brightly.

"I'll go first. These are in no particular order." He held up one hand and began counting on his chubby, tanned fingers. "One, a taco stand."

A tiny smile of disbelief brushed Claire's lips. "A whole stand?"

"Yeah, of course, who knows how long we'll be here?" he replied. He held up his second finger. "A case of Corona. Cold. Yeah…" He smiled dreamily.

Claire nodded, trying to assemble her own list in her head.

"Three, a TV. With cable. Does cable count as a fourth thing? Like, the cable box?"

"I'll be lenient," Claire replied with an air of mock generosity.

"Great. OK, four, unlimited batteries for my CD player."

Claire giggled, remembering Hurley scouring the island for batteries after his precious appliance died. "Good choice, but you can't have _unlimited_, can you? Like, you can't have infinity of something, that's cheating."

"OK, fine, whatever, a freakin' huge crate of batteries. Five… a cruise ship so we could sail away from here."

"That's definitely cheating! That's like when a genie gives you three wishes and you wish for more wishes. If you could leave the island, you wouldn't need all your stuff!"

"Fine, rule Nazi, I'll make up something else. But you haven't given me your list."

"OK, fine." She sat up and placed Aaron in his cradle, rocking it with one hand as the other mimicked his counting pose. "One, a working cell phone."

"Ooh, good choice. But if you only want it so you can call someone and get us off the island, that's cheating," Hurley declared, nodding his head sagely.

"No, I could call my mates and stuff," Claire argued. "Two," she began before he could comment, "my suitcase that I checked."

"A suitcase is a bunch of things, not one."

"No, because they're all contained in one bag." She sighed dreamily. "I really want my clothes. I mean, I had some in my carry-on and I found a few things, but I miss my old stuff. Not to mention my underwear."

Hurley let out a little snorting laugh. "No, I'm afraid you have to count each pair of underwear as a separate wish."  
"Oh, piss off," she replied airily. "Three, a huge, huge box full of peanut butter."

"A box of peanut butter? Gross."

"No, a box of jars of peanut butter."

"OK, I can see it."

"Four, hmm… my CD collection. I could listen to them on your player because you would have 'unlimited' batteries," she teased.

"Final choice," Hurley said in the sort of grave tone that Regis Philbin used to ask the million-dollar question.

"Umm… a diaper bag."

"A bag of diapers?"

"No, like those bags moms carry around, with all those baby supplies. Like diapers and bottles and actual baby clothes," she clarified, looking ruefully at Aaron's meager blanket-fashioned attire.

"That's like your suitcase, totally cheating. Even more cheating because this is a hypothetical bag, not one that actually exists."

"This is a hypothetical game. I need a diaper bag!" Claire leaned forward insistently, then realized how ridiculous she was being. She was stranded on an island with a newborn and she was getting heated over some stupid top five list.

Hurley backed down. "OK, fine, whatever. I still can't pick an ideal fifth item."

"Oops, I just realized, I forgot something."

"Yeah, what?"

"A breast pump."

"Ew, what even is that? Oh… yeah… ugh."

"Wow, mature reaction."

"Look, I'm mature. To prove how mature I am, I'm willing to be generous. My number five will be…" He made a little drum roll sound. "A breast pump."

"Aw, for me?" Claire asked, tilting her head charmingly.

"No, for my own personal use. Don't judge me. This list is don't ask, don't tell," Hurley quipped, maintaining a straight face except for the left corner of his mouth, which was rebelliously trying to smile.

Claire laughed so hard that Aaron stirred and whined in his cradle at his mother's unexpected outburst. "Aw, c'mere sweetie," she cooed, lifting the baby into her arms.

"Hey, little dude," Hurley said. Unlike most of the islanders, he didn't have a baby talk tone. His Aaron voice was the same laid-back one he used on everyone.

"You want to hold him?" Claire asked, offering as a sort of general courtesy, as well as a giving herself a chance to rest her arms for a few more precious minutes.

"Uh… sure," Hurley said in a slightly nervous voice. He stuck his arms straight out, palms up, as though accepting a tray of cookies. Claire tried to hide her smile at his discomfort and settled Aaron carefully in his arms.

"Am I doing this right? Does he look mad?" Hurley asked anxiously.

"He looks fine, don't worry." The baby, in truth, looked kind of hilarious in contrast to the big man. The picture was made even funnier by the fact that Aaron was completely relaxed, studying Hurley's face quietly, while Hurley held the baby as gingerly as he would a stick of dynamite.

A random question entered her mind. "What one _person_ would you want on the island with you? Like, who do you miss the most?"

"Hmm… my friend Johnny."

"What's he like?"

"Kind of shrimpy… kind of a jackass… man, I love him. Miss him like crazy. Hadn't seen him in… a while, even before the crash." He twiddled his thumbs and a shadow of regret crossed his face, but when he looked up, his eyes were clear. "How about you?"

"I'm not sure," she answered, feeling like a loser. "I would have said Thomas, but yeah, you know…"

"Thomas?"  
"Aaron's dad, but that's kind of a _long _time ago." She sighed and made an exasperated face. "I guess maybe I'd want my friend Rachel."

"What's she like?"

"Fun. She was so good at making me not worry about things. Like, we're alive, we're hanging out, it must not be too bad." She smiled wistfully, gazing at Hurley through a lock of blonde hair that had fallen across her face. He bit his lip and looked down awkwardly, and she wondered if he was tired of holding the baby. "You want me to take him back?"

"Yeah, sure, if you want." He carefully placed Aaron back in her arms. "You know, I have a problem with your son."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. He has no appreciation for James Brown. I tried out a little "I Feel Good" one time, and he turned it down cold. I fear for his future."

Claire chuckled, then gave a wan grin. "Hey, you know what?"

"What?"

"I have my favorite person in the world on the island already." She nodded toward the bundle in her arms. "I'm lucky, yeah? Well, kind of."

"Yeah, and he's lucky to have his mom." Despite his relinquishing of the baby burden, he still looked a little uncomfortable as these words left his lips.

"Aw, are you missing your mum, Hurley?" she teased, not sure how else to accept the compliment.

"Eh, not really. She would find something to nag me about out here. Like, 'Hugo, Locke can kill boars, why you sitting around on your lazy butt?' or maybe 'We're Catholic, we don't believe in creepy monster-infested jungles!'"

"I think our mothers should meet. They sound like they'd get along." Claire cast her gaze down to Aaron. "I'm never going to be like that to you, OK, baby?"

"Better get that in writing, little guy," Hurley told him gravely. He shifted his position on the sand and rose slowly to his feet. "Well…" He stretched his arms. "I guess I'll leave you two alone. There might be some breast pump action that I don't want to know about going on pretty soon." Before he could say anymore, Charlie bounded up next to him.

"Hey there, Claire and Hurley!"

Claire realized that her named had acquired a new configuration, and she wasn't sure whether that was progress or not.

"What are we talking about?" Charlie continued.

"Claire's boobs." Hurley grinned mischievously.

For a moment, Claire wondered whether this revelation would send Charlie onto one of the protective kicks he had been on lately, but the worry proved to be unnecessary.

"Yeah? Looks like I got here just in time then!"

"I guess this kind of treatment is what I get when I'm surrounded by boys," Claire said with mock despair, rocking the littlest "boy" in her arms.

"Get used to it!" Charlie plopped onto the sand next to her and flung his arm around her shoulders.

_Maybe I will,_ she thought with a hopeful smile.

A/N: I'm going to try to write more chapters of this. I'm kind of confused about where I want a certain relationship to go, but oh well, I'll figure it out. I do have plans for the next chapters. Please review! Thanks!


	2. End of the World

Author's note: When I wrote this, I hadn't seen all of season 2 yet. (Well, I still haven't, but I've seen more.) So basically, assume that it's before Charlie and Claire's fight over the heroin, and before the tail section is found (so pre-Shannon's death, too), but after Aaron is named and stuff. I really love Libby and Hurley, but she's not in this fic!

Question for the readers—Do you want any romance to be in this? If so, what pairing?

Disclaimer: Forgot to do this earlier… oh well! I don't own Lost! The got the idea of playing "End of the World" from the Princess Diaries books. (It's a great game to play!)

Charlie sat under the roof of Claire's shelter, holding his guitar and waiting for inspiration.

"Claire!" he sang loudly, strumming a single chord. "Hmmm-hmmm-hmm…" he hummed as his invention ran out. "Your eyes are clear as the mountain air!" he tried. "Wait, no, that's bollocks."

She laughed. "You don't have to put my name in it if you don't want."

"No, no, it's a tribute song! Like 'Layla' or 'Angie' or those Beatles songs like 'Michelle', you know? It has to have 'Claire' in it."

"You could make an Aaron song." She looked over at the baby, who was having his afternoon nap.

"No, that's even harder. What the bloody hell would rhyme with Aaron?"

"Carin'? Sharin'? "Starin'?"

"Hey, that's not too bad!" He began picking his guitar and singing under his breath again.

Claire idly drew patterns in the sand by the edge of their shelter. Hearts and stars. She got a little more original with tiny flowers, seashells, finally words. _Claire. Aaron. Charlie. _She sighed when she couldn't think of anything else to write.

After a few minutes of no sound but Charlie's humming and the ever-present roar of the waves, Hurley walked by dragging his golf clubs, and Charlie broke the calm with a shout.

"Hurley! Hey, man… what rhymes with Aaron?"

"Umm… sharin'? Carin'? Blarin'?" He shrugged, then readjusted the strap over his shoulder.

"Blarin'…" Charlie mused. "I don't know if I can make anything nice out of that."

"Hey Charlie, dude, can I play your guitar a little bit later?"

Claire cringed. She knew how defensive Charlie was of his prize possession.

"Well… yeah, OK. I didn't know you played!"

"I'm not good, but I'm getting pretty bored around here. I was just hoping if I walked by with these that someone would want to play," Hurley confessed, looking ruefully at the golf bag.

"You can play my guitar now if you want. I'm not getting anything good here, I should probably take a break."

"Awesome! Thanks." Hurley dumped the golf clubs on the sand and took the guitar.

Charlie chuckled. "That looks like a bloody ukulele when you hold it. I feel like a runt."

Hurley smiled and began quietly strumming chords with his fingertips. He looked up suddenly, and his eyes caught Claire's. He smiled again. "How's it going?"

"Not bad. The baby's sleeping a lot more lately." She twirled one of her bracelets around her wrist, feeling suddenly shy. She had the strange feeling that no one had looked her in the eyes much lately.

"So you're good?"

"Yeah, I'm great."

"Well that's… good," Hurley said awkwardly.

"In case you were wondering, I am _fabulous_. Except for the fact that I've lost my mojo," Charlie announced.

"No mojo, huh?" Hurley played a simple bluesy riff. "You could work on a mojo song before you get back to the Aaron song."

"Mojo songs are a bit cliché. And I'm not sure that English guys can pull them off very well."

"I guess that means writing a mojo masterpiece is up to me." Hurley began strumming aggressively, and Charlie and Claire laughed. After a moment, Charlie sighed and lay back on the sand. A minute later, he reached over and poked Claire in the ribs.

She jumped and squealed. "Charlie!"

"I have something to ask you."

"Yeah?"

"OK… say that the world ends."

"What?"

"Like, a nuclear holocaust devastates the world and everyone dies except you and one other person."

"This is a depressing question, dude," Hurley interjected.

"Let me finish. OK, so everyone is dead but you and one guy, and you two have to repopulate the earth together."

"Ugh," Hurley and Claire said simultaneously.

Charlie continued. "If that happened… would you rather be stuck with Michael or Jin?"

"What? What kind of question is this?"

"It's a game! Pick one!"

"OK, fine, Michael, because it would be good to actually speak the same language if there was no one else to talk to."

"OK. Michael or Jack?"

"Hmm… Jack, because he's a doctor and could take care of me if I got sick."

"Jack or Locke?"

"Well, Locke is better at survival stuff…"

"But he's kind of old. He might die sort of fast anyway," Hurley said.

"True… I don't know! Whatever."

"You can't say whatever, this is a hierarchical game."

"Fine, I'll think about it. Don't pressure me!"

"OK, then it's Hurley's turn."

"Aw, great." Hurley rolled his eyes.

"OK, Sun or Kate?"

"Ooh, definitely Sun. She can do medicine and stuff, plus I saw her in a bikini one time and she is seriously hot."

"OK, Sun or Shannon?"

"Still Sun. Shannon's hot, too, but she never does anything, and she always says something bitchy if I try to talk to her."

"Sun or… uh… I'm running out of ideas. Most of the other chicks on this island are kind of old."

"Well, when do we get to do you?" Claire asked.

"That's what _she_ said!" Charlie exclaimed, then laughed hysterically. Hurley chuckled, and Claire tried to suppress her smile.

"I _hate_ those jokes, Charlie!"

"Sorry, sorry. You can start giving me choices if you want."

"Do they have to be people from the island?"

"No, I guess not. You could do famous people if you want. But be aware, I might already know them." He smirked proudly.

"Nicole Kidman or Naomi Watts?"

"Naomi, Nicole is too tall."

"Naomi Watts or… uh… Kate Moss?"

"Still Naomi."

"Naomi Watts or Jessica Simpson."

"Ooh, Jessica."

"Dude, she has an IQ of like… negative three," Hurley said. He thought for a moment. "She _is _hot, though."

"Hey, I've got one for you." Charlie pointed at him. "Sun or… Claire?"

"What? You can't do people who are sitting right here! That's awkward." Claire shifted her position in the sand. "You don't have to answer that," she told Hurley.

"Yeah, Charlie, that's kind of harsh," Hurley said. Then he smiled. "But it wouldn't matter anyway because I'd totally pick Claire."

Claire bit her lip, feeling oddly like she might giggle like a preteen. "Thanks."

"Good choice!" Charlie gave a thumbs-up sign. "Can I have my guitar back?"

"Sure, man." Hurley relinquished the instrument. "But we need a new game."

"I'm sure we'll think of something," Charlie answered. "After all… we've got nothing but time around here."

"Time… and creepy jungle things."

"That, too." Charlie resumed work on his latest masterpiece, Hurley stared out at the ocean quietly, and Claire found a new name to write in the sand.

A/N: Sorry that it's kind of short. It WILL have more plot later on, but… I'm not sure what direction I want it to go. I have several ideas. So please post suggestions in your reviews if you have any! Thanks!


	3. Water War

Author's note: Thanks for the comments! They make me so happy! I hope I can keep up this rate of updating, which is rather rare for me!

Disclaimer: Same as before!

Hurley was wandering. What else was there to do? That's why he knew so many people on the island. He didn't have a wife or sister or love interest or best friend. He was everyone's friend, loosely speaking. Hurley, the Big Guy.

He decided to wander toward Charlie and Claire's spot. It had been the most fun, lately. It felt almost like being back home with friends… that is, after the asylum… and before the lottery.

When he reached his destination, however, there was no Charlie to be found. Instead, he saw Claire, kneeling next to a bucket of water and washing her long hair with Dharma-issued shampoo. Her hair and hands were both filled with lather. Suddenly, Aaron began screaming from his crib.

"Aaron!" Claire said in a sing-song voice. "Don't cry, it's OK. Mummy's busy…"

Her soothing tone just seemed to annoy the baby more. He upped the volume, a task that Hurley hadn't thought possible.

"Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, never let it fade away!" Claire sang loudly and slightly off-key, dipping her hair in the bucket and trying to rock the cradle by stretching her foot out to reach it. Hurley grinned.

When this song failed to comfort Aaron, she burst out in a more raucous chorus. "You all, everybody! You all, everybody!" Hurley wondered if Charlie had made Aaron into the world's youngest Driveshaft fan.

Aaron howled.

Apparently not.

"L! Is for the way you look at me! O! Is for the only one I see! V! Is very very… ow!" Claire had finally flipped her wet hair over her shoulder (flinging water so far that Hurley could have sworn that he'd felt a few drops) and was standing over the baby, swaying back and forth in an entertaining manner. She'd apparently missed a few suds near her face, however, because she was now rubbing her eye and muttering angrily.

She ran over to the bucket and splashed water onto her face, but it didn't seem to help much. She scrubbed at the eye even more fiercely, as Aaron continued to scream.

Hurley figured he should say something before she realized how long he had been standing there uselessly. "Hey, do you need… help?"

She jumped, knocking over the bucket of water, which spilled forth and drenched the floor of her makeshift tent.

"Damn!" she cried, then covered her mouth as though guilty for cursing near the baby. "Yeah, I could… but I don't know where to start." She suddenly burst out laughing, and Hurley smiled with relief.

"Is there still soap in your eye?"

"A little, but I think it's mostly out. Could you maybe get Aaron for a minute?"

"Uh, sure, OK…" Hurley carefully picked up the baby, trying to keep a hand behind his head like Claire had shown him. Aaron quieted down a little, but continued to make nervous fussing sounds.

"Trying singing to him," Claire instructed, rinsing her face a final time.

"Stones taught me to fly," Hurley sang experimentally. Aaron let out a shuddering sigh. "Love, taught me to lie. Life taught me to…" The next lyric was "die," but that sounded a little grim to sing to a baby, so he skipped to the end. "And it's not hard to fall, when you float like a cannonball." Aaron was quiet.

"Hey, not bad. Maybe you should come by more often." Claire wrung water out of her hair, and Hurley found his eyes following the way the sun found golden strands in it. She smiled at him, and he got nervous all over again.

"So… where's Charlie?"

"Getting water from the caves, since I used up this bucket on my hair." She smiled ruefully. "It was starting to feel really disgusting."

"Yeah, tell me about it. I think small animals may be living in mine."

"Ew, gross, keep it away from the baby," Claire teased.

Hurley grinned, then found himself distracted by the largest item on the island—the ocean. Talking about his hair had reminded him of how sweaty and dirty he currently was. The ocean looked cool and refreshing… and inviting.

"You know what?" he said suddenly.

"What?"

"I'm going swimming."

"In the stream?"

"No. The _ocean._"

"Should you do that? I mean, someone drowned here before."

"Well, I won't swim out far, I'll just wade or something. I just think it looks fun."

"Hmm…" Claire studied the water. "It does."

"And I'm basically guaranteed to float. Especially in salt water."

Claire giggled. "That's lucky."

Hurley nodded his head toward the baby in his arms. "You want him back?"

"Yes please, he's a little young for swimming." Hurley smiled. Everything Claire said made him smile today. What was with that?

"Well… I'm going now," he said awkwardly.

"Don't go out deep! I mean it, really, don't. Be careful!"

"OK, sure, Mom."

"Ha ha, very funny. Have fun!"

"I will."

And he did. He hadn't splashed around on the beach in a long time. Instead of going to exotic Hawaii like most lottery winners, he had gone to Sydney and spent the whole time searching for a mysterious hermit. He was in up to his knees, kicking water into the air and watching it fall down in a shimmering spray. It was relaxing. Kind of Zen. Why hadn't he done this before?

"Hurley!"

He looked up and saw Claire running toward him, wearing a bathing suit with a tank top over it.

"I decided that I wanted to swim too. Or wade. Whatever. Sun has the baby for a few minutes."

"I didn't know…" Hurley cut himself off before he could say anything embarrassing. "I didn't know you brought a bathing suit."

"I didn't. I pulled the 'I have a poor island baby, be nice to me' routine on Shannon and borrowed one of hers. I had to put a shirt over it, though. I don't want anyone to see my baby belly."

Hurley chuckled. "Your what?"

"Ever since I had the baby, I have this weird little section of fat."

"Yeah, well, I can't see it."

Claire pulled the hem of her shirt up a few inches, revealing a tiny bulge on her smooth midsection, as well as a little extra fat around her hips. "See?"

For some reason, that little imperfection was the cutest thing Hurley had ever seen. He suddenly lost all sense of what he should do… or say. So he kept his mouth shut and started splashing in the water again.

Claire made a skeptical grimace. "You call _that _a splash?"

Hurley raised his eyebrows. "Is that a challenge?"

Instead of answering him, she kicked a miniature tidal wave of water at him.

"Hey!" He kicked back, and the awkward tension was ended by a water war. It was a close fight. Hurley had bigger feet to kick with, but Claire splashed more energetically. Soon, they were screaming and laughing like a couple of kids. Hurley was beginning to think that he might lose the fight when he got a new idea. He stepped closer to Claire, grabbed her waist, and held her up at arm's length so that her feet dangled above the water.

"Yeah, try splashing me now!" he taunted.

"Not fair! Stop it!" she laughed, flailing her legs ineffectually.

"Hey!" a voice suddenly yelled. They both looked over and saw Charlie running toward them. "What's going on?" he yelled.

Hurley froze, then realized that he was still holding Claire in midair. He set her down carefully just as Charlie ran into the water to stand by them.

"Where's Aaron? What are you doing?"

"We were just swimming. Well, I mean, splashing. What's wrong?" Claire answered.

Charlie let out a relieved sigh. "Nothing. I was just scared when I got back and you and the baby were gone."

Claire smoothed back her wet hair. "I'm sorry. He's with Sun. I was only going to be gone a few minutes. I guess I just… forgot."

"Forgot about him?"

"No. I forgot… to be scared." She shrugged and picked at an invisible loose thread on her tank top.

Charlie's anxious face softened, and he put his arm around her shoulders. "You don't have to be scared. I'll take care of you. And Aaron. You just made me worry, that's all."

She gave him an adoring look and let him lead her back toward their tent as he babbled happily about some gossip he had heard while he was getting water. Hurley stood in the surf feeling wet, ridiculous, and alone. Even more alone than usual. Claire and Charlie were turning into a real family, and he wasn't part of it. Or if he was, he was something like a weird, old uncle. He had thought that maybe Charlie would get jealous or protective or something, like Hurley was hitting on his girl (even though he wasn't). But instead, Charlie hadn't even looked at him. It was like he was invisible.

Then Claire turned and looked over her shoulder.

"I'll beat you next time! You just wait!" She smiled deviously, and Hurley's heart rearranged itself again.

_There's still a little bit of your song in my ear_

_There's still a little bit of your words I long to hear_

_You step a little closer to me_

_So close that I can't see what's going on_

Author's Note: The songs used are "Catch a Falling Star", written by Lee Pockriss and Paul Vance, "You All Everybody", written by someone involved in Lost (I forget who, haha), "L-O-V-E", written by Milt Gabler and Bert Kaempfert, and "Cannonball", written by Damien Rice.

Next chapter will feature _much_ more Charlie. This was just a Hurley perspective chapter. So fear not, Charlie fans! I hope to make this story about equally balanced between Claire, Charlie, and Hurley. Please review!


	4. Music Party

Author's note: Charlie chapter! Yayeah! I hope I can do our dear friend justice. For some reason, I have a little bit of a harder time writing him than I do with Claire or Hurley. He's definitely cool, though! So this will be fun.

This part of the story is at the beginning of the second season, before the arrival of the tail section or Claire finding out about Charlie's drug past and the statues and stuff! I'm not sure if the rest of the story will exactly match the timeline of the show or change it in a few ways. This simple story is spiraling out of control and becoming something big, haha.

Disclaimer: Same as before, yeah, yeah.

Charlie told Claire that he wanted to sit alone to work on his music that day, but that was only partly true. He wanted to work on his songs, yes, but he wanted a chance to think… about her.

He had never done anything like this before. He knew how to win over girls. He'd certainly had his share of attention from the ladies once Driveshaft got big. Those girls, however, were groupies. Or else the kind of girls who go out to bars and look around for cute, available men the way barracudas look for schools of little innocent minnows. _They_ were easy… in all senses of the word.

Claire, however, was not. She hadn't been the first girl he'd noticed on the island. She was pretty, _really_ pretty, but not flashy. Really, he'd only noticed her because she looked so… innocent. Well, not that innocent, considering she was massively pregnant. Maybe the word was vulnerable. And sweet. And so alone. He just wanted to help her out. No one knew him there. No one knew that he screwed everything up, that was a has-been and a druggie. He was just a guy. And he became her friend. No, more than her friend. Her _best_ friend. Her protector. It felt so good to be _that_ guy for once.

Lately, he felt like his whole world was her. Well, her and the baby, his own little island family. He talked to her all day, and when he talked to other people, they always asked about her, knowing that he was the one who would know how she was doing. He could comfort Aaron when he cried and change a diaper in absolutely record time. It wasn't a number one single or a national tour, but it made him happy. It was so comfortable.

It also made him confused. Why did he think of her so much? Now, watching her from afar, he realized something. Everything she did was sweet. Everything about her made him happy. Claire wasn't just someone who needed him. He needed her, too. He needed someone who trusted him, who smiled at him, who laughed at his jokes. She wasn't just a mission. She was a girl, and she was amazing.

But how did she feel about him? Did she just appreciate the attention? Did she like him as a friend? Or did she think he was wonderful, too?

Charlie had never been modest. His usual approach was cocky and confident, and it worked. This time, he couldn't joke. He couldn't strut and swagger. He was too scared. He never wanted to lose Claire. He was too scared to risk ruining their relationship (whatever it was).

He decided that writing an emotional ballad might serve as catharsis. So far, the only words he had come up with were "I don't know where I stand." A good line… but it couldn't carry a whole song. He kept getting distracted from the writing process by, of course, Claire.

He was sitting far away from her, but she was still in view, and somehow everything she did seemed interesting. Well, except for when she was nursing Aaron under a blanket slung over her shoulder, which was rather an awkward thing to watch.

Just as he was about to make up a second line to the song, he was distracted by the appearance of Hurley, who arrived at Claire's tent with his CD player in hand. Since Charlie was beyond hearing distance, he saw the scene play out like a pantomime. Hurley held out the player like an offering, and Claire beamed her lovely smile and motioned for him to sit down. A moment later, she put on his headphones and listened to a song, nodding enthusiastically when it was done.

Charlie forced himself to pay attention to his own song and composed a few more lines. He had a melody already, that began quiet and built up to a climactic chorus. He was just solidifying the chord progression when he heard a loud laugh from Claire's direction and looked up again.

She and Hurley had flipped the headphones so that they faced outward, and each had one ear pressed against them. Their heads were close together, and Aaron was nestled in Claire's lap. They looked like a little closed circle, and for a moment, Charlie felt annoyed. That was _his_ spot.

Then he realized that he was being ridiculous. He didn't own Claire. Hurley was just a good guy. She was only smiling at him the way she smiled at anyone else who came to talk to her. There was no way that this meant anything. Anyway, Charlie was the one who had decided to hang out alone this afternoon. She was probably just entertaining herself while he was gone.

He tried to go back to his guitar, but he kept looking over at the scene unfolding before him. Then he realized what was wrong. It wasn't the way they were sitting. It wasn't anything Claire was doing. She was acting quite natural. It wasn't even anything Hurley was doing—it was his face.

He looked at Claire all the time, always smiling. That wasn't so weird, but when she looked away, his whole expression changed. His gaze went from normal smile to absolute worship. He was worshipping at a bloody Temple of Claire. Charlie knew a lovesick look when he saw one. Hurley's look could have inspired countless love songs. And Claire was clearly oblivious.

Charlie fumed as she yawned and laid her head on Hurley's shoulder. For her, it was a simple act of friendship and Aaron induced exhaustion. For Hurley, it was probably a major event. Charlie decided that he had to intervene, for everyone's sake.

"Hey guys!" he said loudly as he walked up to the tent. "What's up?"

"We're listening to music," Claire answered, rather unnecessarily since they were holding a set of headphones. At least she took her head off Hurley's shoulder.

"Ooh, what band?"

"Jack Johnson." Hurley held up a CD box with a tree on it.

"Cool, cool." Charlie sat down next to them, as close to Claire as possible. "Aaron sure is being good."

"Yes, _so_ good. He's getting so big!" Claire reverted to her baby voice and nuzzled the baby's belly, causing him to giggle.

"So how's your song going, dude?" Hurley asked.

"Eh, not bad. I decided to take a break and wait for the muse to move, you know."

"Um, yeah," Hurley said in a voice that indicated that he had no idea what Charlie was talking about.

"Isn't it time for Aaron's nap?" Charlie asked Claire.

"Yeah, but he doesn't seem too tired yet."

"We're trying to get him on a schedule, aren't we? You should probably put him down soon."

"I know, I know. I will in a second." She crammed the headphone against her ear again.

"You can listen with both ears if you want. I should probably leave if it's time for his nap. You can just give it back later," Hurley said.

Now Charlie _knew_ that Hurley had a crush. He would never leave his precious CD player with anyone otherwise.

"Yeah, I guess you should be going. Aaron's been quite a light sleeper lately," Charlie said with a grave nod.

"Really? I thought he was doing better!" Claire said unhelpfully.

"It's cool. I'll see you guys later. Enjoy the CD!" Hurley gave a little wave as he lumbered off wistfully.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Charlie turned to Claire, all thoughts of being subtle vanished. "Hurley likes you."

"Uh, yeah, so? He likes everyone."

"No, I mean he has a crush on you. He looks at you like you're… food. I was watching. Guys know stuff like that."

"Are you serious?"

"Totally. You're kind of leading him on."

"We're just hanging out."

"Yeah, I know that, and you know that, but _he's_ falling in looove," Charlie said, knowing that he was being overdramatic as soon as he spoke the words.

"Are you sure you're not reading too much into things?"

"I'm pretty sure. I'm just trying to warn you."

"OK, well, consider me warned."

"OK," Charlie said, hesitantly deciding to drop the subject. "Wanna put Turniphead down now?"

"Aaron!"

"Yeah, yeah. Give him to me, I'll do it."

She complied, and Charlie's mood improved a little as he looked down at his beloved… well, whatever Aaron was to him. The baby was almost as comfortable with him as he was with Claire. He hadn't had much experience with kids, and taking care of this one so much was a nice change.

Soon Aaron was sleeping peacefully in the cradle. Charlie sat down next to Claire, hoping to talk to her, but she was wearing the headphones again and bobbing her head slowly to the music he couldn't hear.

He looked down at her hand and saw that she was writing in the sand, as she often did when bored. _Aaron_._ Claire_._ Charlie_.

Feeling suddenly brave, or perhaps just stupid, he reached over and drew a heart between his name and hers. A silent declaration. He looked at her to see how she reacted.

She stared at the drawing for a moment, then looked at him with a surprised, searching expression. He smiled and nodded, trying to convey his feelings without seeming like a prat. She stared at him for a moment longer, then looked down at the sand again, her brow furrowed anxiously. Then she reached toward the words and… drew a heart between her name and Aaron's. She smiled at Charlie nervously, then suddenly rubbed all of the words off the sand, erasing his brave act as though it were nothing.

"I'm going for a walk, OK?" she said, jumping up abruptly.

"You shouldn't walk around alone," he protested.

"I'll just walk on the beach. I'll be back soon. Aaron will be hungry soon anyway." She stood still for a moment, then suddenly leaned down and kissed Charlie's forehead tenderly. "I'll be back soon." She smiled, but she had a flustered air, and she walked off as though she couldn't get away quickly enough.

"Well, _that_ went well," Charlie groaned.

Author's note: Check out my fast update skills! I hope y'all like this chapter! Please review! Thanks so much to pacejunkie, ICRepresentative, Spice of Life, and jimmy-barnes-13 for reviewing the last one!


	5. A Walk

Author's note: I changed the title of the story because I originally made it up as a just a short series of chapters where people hung out and amused themselves, but I have now made up an actual plot. I named it after a song by Gavin DeGraw that's really great! I'm so excited, because I have a plan written out for this story. I know what's going to happen and who's going to end up with who, but I hope I can keep y'all guessing, heehee. Thank you very much to all who reviewed last time!

Claire hadn't realized how much she had missed music since she was on the island. At home, she'd had it playing constantly. It soothed her when she had a bad day, gave her energy to get out of bed on the days when she felt like she'd rather die than go to the Fish'n'Fry, and sharpened emotional experiences to either beautiful or painful impact. (She still felt a dizzying mixture of joy and disappointment when she heard the song that was playing when she and Thomas had their first kiss.) Walking along the beach listening to a CD was a nice change… except for the fact that rather than soothing her, Jack Johnson's mellow singing was enhancing her melancholy mood.

Her brief conversation with Charlie had introduced several different kinds of anxiety. She hadn't meant to seem like she was rejecting him when she erased his heart… wow, that sounded dramatic. She just hadn't known what to do. She knew that he must like her since he stayed with her so much, but they had kind of done things backwards. Instead of starting out in a mushy honeymoon phase and working up to parenthood, they had started out with a relationship held together by taking care of Aaron and various island tasks and skipped the overt romance altogether.

Lately, she _had_ noticed a few changes in his behavior. He sat closer to her, put his arm around her more, and sometimes stroked her hair while they were talking. She could never decide if she loved that or hated it. One of the only things she remembered about her dad was the way he would pat her hair as an all-purpose form of greeting. He didn't see her often, and when he did, he acted shy, as though she were a stranger, which she pretty much was. He didn't scoop her into his arms or hug her the way her friends' dads did. His hand on her hair was the only physical sensation she had ever associated with him. Hands on her hair always made her freeze uncomfortably, because half of her instincts said to shrink away, while the other half begged her to lean closer.

She felt the same kind of conflict over the new developments with Charlie. She did like him. He was cute, funny, and sweet. Still, she had a few doubts. For one thing, what did she really know about him? What did anyone really know about anyone else on this island? She trusted Charlie, but she still felt a little wary around everyone after all of the incidents with the Others and Danielle Rousseau. She felt like she could never take anyone's goodness for granted again. It felt kind of foolish to begin a relationship with no context in the real world—but then, did the real world matter much here? She knew that Charlie was kind and smart and looked at her with a tenderness that she couldn't describe.

The only other issue she was worried about was his involvement in her care for Aaron. She sometimes worried that he had too much weight in her parenting. He was tangled up in every part of her life, and it was strange to be so closely tied to a relationship that was so new and undeveloped.

Really, she admitted to herself, she was scared of dealing with romance at all. She didn't have a good track record, and if things went sour, what would it be like to be on the island without his companionship and help? Would Aaron miss him? Could she stand being truly alone?

But then, she wouldn't be alone. She had other friends besides Charlie. Kate helped her sometimes, and Sun, and Hurley.

She sighed. Hurley. The second person that was weighing on her mind.

She had been enjoying his company. He relaxed her. He made her smile. He never bugged her about Aaron, figuring that since she was the mom, she must know more than he did. He reminded her of her friends back home—the kind of twenty-somethings that made parents shake their heads and sigh, saying that they were going nowhere. But past the dead-end jobs and the struggle for rent and independence, good things were hidden. They were still young enough to stay close to their friends, to fall in love recklessly, to think that a good future was possible, and a good time that night was likely. They weren't special, but they might be happy someday. Sometimes Charlie seemed so much older than she was, just because he had traveled, and dealt with fame, and gained and lost and the "good life" that you hear about. She had still been waiting for her good life to arrive when the plane crash changed everything.

She had denied Charlie's accusation that Hurley liked her, but as soon as she really thought about it, she knew it was true. She hadn't realized it, but when Charlie spoke those words, she had felt no surprise. Now she realized that she had known all along. She had felt the undercurrent of excitement that comes from being with someone who's attracted to you, who thinks you're special. She hadn't acknowledged it, but she had felt it lift her mood these past few days, giving her some of its energy.

But she had learned, even in her relatively short life, that this boost always came with a question—do you feel the same? And if you do, you get together and the magic fades as it becomes ordinary, and if you don't, hurt comes in and you lose everything and start over.

That might be a theme of her life—she lost her dad, she lost her mother to the fights and strain of their relationship, she lost Thomas, she almost lost Aaron. If she chose between Charlie and Hurley, she would lose a friend. If she chose neither, she would lose so much possibility. She never wanted to choose anything again, because she was somehow always wrong.

She was jerked out of her reverie by the sudden silence that filled her ears when the CD ended. She looked down at the player and realized that its battery was low, so she quickly turned it off. She knew she should return the player to Hurley, but that would require talking to him, which would make her nervous.

Her dilemma was resolved by Hurley himself appearing. He did a nervous little wave, and she beckoned him over, deciding to do the inevitable.

"Here's your CD player. Thanks for letting me use it."

"No problem. Did you like the CD?"

"Yeah, it was great," she said, feeling a little guilty since she hadn't been paying much attention to the music.

"Good." He looked down nervously, then suddenly back up. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she said in a falsely cheerful tone, wondering what he could want.

"Are you sick of me hanging around? I mean, it kind of seemed like Charlie was annoyed at me or something, and I don't have to hang out with you guys all the time. I don't want to be the third wheel or whatever."

"Aw, Hurley, no, it's fine. Charlie was just…" She didn't want to explain, so she made up a half-truth. "I think he was just worried about Aaron's nap. I like hanging out with you."

Hurley looked shyly pleased. "Uh, OK. I'm glad."

They stood there silently for a minute, both looking around as though searching for an escape route, and Claire finally spoke. "Well, I guess I'd better go. I think Aaron needs feeding."

"OK. See ya later."

Oddly, now that she had extricated herself, Claire kind of didn't want to leave. She imagined going back to Hurley's spot on the beach instead, sitting down in the sand and watching the waves and listening to music and not worrying about anything… being an alternate reality Claire who didn't have to deal with a baby and or an ex-rock star semi-boyfriend, a girl who could just relax.

But she wasn't that girl, so she walked back to her tent and nursed the baby and listened to Charlie scold her about how the feeding was late and now Aaron's schedule would be off. She wanted to say something sarcastic or tell him to bugger off, but when she looked at him, she saw his earnest concern and his sweet expression, and she immediately softened and apologized.

"Did you give Hurley his CD player back already?" Charlie asked as she burped Aaron.

"Yeah, I ran into him on my walk."

"Is that why you were gone so long?" An edge of jealousy tinged his voice.

"No, I only talked to him for a minute," she answered. _What are you now, a jealous husband? Is Hurley a homewrecker? _she thought rudely.

"I missed you," he said suddenly.

She laughed, a little startled. "I was gone for less than an hour."

"Yeah, I know, but I like being with you. And I was worried you were mad or something."

"No, I'm not mad." She remembered his heart in the sand, a shy and brave declaration, and she scooted closer to him and boldly took his hand.

He beamed like he had just won the lottery and kissed her cheek.

"Hey, uh, let's take this slow," she said, realizing that her impulse had just given him hope that she wasn't sure she wanted him to have.

"Ooh, sorry, I'll cool it with the intense snogging," he teased, and she joined in as he laughed uproariously at his own joke.

At that moment, for _just_ a moment, with her arm around Aaron and her hand in Charlie's, she was perfectly happy. She let herself relax for a moment, forget the conflicts and just feel the affection that had grown in such a short time between them. It was perfect—but Claire had learned, there would be a price.

_I've looked at love from both sides now_

_From give and take, and still somehow_

_It's love's illusions I recall_

_I really don't know love at all_

A/N: Don't worry, next chapter will be back to the happier, cuter stuff, but I had to have an inner conflict chapter, haha. Song quote at the end is by Joni Mitchell. Please review!


	6. A Gift

Author's note: Sorry for the slower update this time! I had to work out details of the story's timeline in the show. I'm sad—this story was on someone's favorites list and then they took it off:'(

Here it is—another Hurley chapter! A little wistful, but not as sad as last chapter. Thanks so much for the reviews.

Hurley dusted his hands off as he walked. They were sandy, not an unusual occurrence on the island, but this time the sand was different—it was the leftovers from the handful of sand he had dropped on Shannon's grave.

The funeral was strange. He hated how he was getting used to people dying. That wasn't supposed to happen. He also hated how even during all the sadness and sympathy and reminders of his own mortality, all he could think about was Claire. She had stood across from him, looking so pretty even with tears in her eyes, and he had wished that he was brave enough to go comfort her.

Now he was walking away from the funeral, with other people straggling along behind or in front of him. Many of them walked in groups, but for once, he didn't feel very much like chatting.

Then he glanced to his left and saw that two of the newly arrived tail section survivors were walking just a few feet away. Thinking that maybe they felt left out or something, he reluctantly shifted so that he was walking next to them.

"Hey," he said, mustering all the friendliness he could.

"Hey," the girl answered. She was the blonde one, not the dark-haired girl who had caused the funeral they'd just attended. She smiled hesitantly. He noticed that her smile was sweet, but her eyes held a worried look that didn't seem to leave. The man next to her, who was tall and almost ridiculously buff, just nodded.

"I'm Hurley."

"I'm Libby," the girl answered, sticking her hand out in an offer to shake. He did so, feeling a little silly, which he always did with such formal greetings.

"Eko," the guy said in a serious, accented voice, but he smiled a little as he spoke, and Hurley felt a little less intimidated.

"Nice to meet you guys," Hurley said, basically running out of conversation.

"You, too," Libby said. Hurley felt a little nervous, then realized that it was because she always looked straight at someone when she talked to them, as though she was always listening. It was nice, but also a little unnerving. He tended to let his eyes wander a little when he talked to people, not wanting to freak anyone out. There's nothing worse than being known as "that creepy guy" in addition to "that big guy."

"Well, this is my… spot on the sand, so I'll see you guys later," he said, figuring he had played Welcome Wagon long enough to make the tailies realize that the other survivors were basically friendly.

"Bye," Libby said with another half-smile. Eko just nodded in a macho fashion.

He split off from the pair and sat down, grabbing his CD player out of habit. He immediately skipped to his favorite track on the CD—"Passenger Seat". It was a Death Cab for Cutie that CD he had bought but only listened to a little, because even though he liked it, it tended to make him feel kind of spacey. He didn't need help feeling aimless and dreamy in his everyday life.

However, the CD had been in non-stop rotation in his player and his mind ever since a certain incident a few days ago.

He had been on the way to the hatch for his turn punching in those freaking numbers when he passed by Claire and saw her rocking Aaron's cradle and singing softly in the wispy, slightly off-key voice he had grown to love.

"When you feel embarrassed, I'll be your pride. When you need direction, I'll be your guide, for all time…" It was one of Hurley's favorite lines from the CD, and hearing it sung by his favorite girl, even if it wasn't directed at him, was enough to simultaneously make his day and make him want to beat his head against the hatch door until he forgot all about his stupid heartache.

As he hummed along to the song that was currently fueling his dilemma, he decided that he might as well walk around as he listened. He pondered whether he should pass by Charlie and Claire's abode or not. He hadn't dropped by in a few days, wanting to steer clear of annoying Charlie or tormenting himself by accidentally witnessing any Charlie-Claire PDA. It was a well-known fact that Charlie and Claire were acting cozier lately. He hadn't heard any rumors of full-on macking yet, but they were holding hands and staring at each other moonily all over the island.

Maybe he should make up a single name for the pair, the way tabloids did with celebrity couples. He thought about it, but realized that Charlie and Claire were very hard names to combine. Clairie? Charl? Chair? He would have to think about it later.

He ended up walking past the nest of the lovebirds, and he was grateful to see that they were neither billing, nor cooing. Charlie was playing with Aaron, if you wanted to call it playing. A more accurate description of the scene would be "Charlie making crazy sounds and faces and Aaron looking as confused as babies always look".

Rather than stopping, Hurley decided to play it cool and just wave. "Hey, Charlie, Claire, little dude."

"Hey," Claire said.

"Boo!" Charlie exclaimed, still teasing Aaron.

"Waaah!" Aaron screamed as Charlie's plan to startle him worked only too well.

"Aw, give him back," Claire demanded, reaching for the baby.

"He's OK. You're OK, little guy!" Charlie insisted, rocking the baby gently, but only managing to slightly decrease the volume of Aaron's cries.

"Charlie, give him to me!" Claire's voice no longer had its usual softness, and Charlie frowned, but obeyed.

Hurley hastened his walking, trying to escape the awkward scene and hide his smirk at witnessing evidence of trouble in Charlie and Claire's island paradise.

The next people that Hurley passed were Rose and her husband, sitting close to the water, holding hands. When Rose saw him, she smiled and waved him over.

"Come here, Hurley. I want you to meet my husband." She looked practically radiant, nothing like the shell-shocked woman she had been her first few days on the island. Hurley had liked Rose ever since she helped him out with his food dilemma. She kind of reminded him of his mom, only with fewer reasons to scold him.

"Hurley, this is Bernard. Bernard, this is Hugo Reyes, but we usually call him Hurley."

"Interesting nickname. How'd you get it?"

"You don't want to hear about it, dude. It's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

Bernard smiled, his eyes framed with laugh lines. "It's nice to be here."

"Were you just talking to Charlie and Claire? How's the baby?" Rose asked.

"I didn't really get to talk to them. Aaron seemed fine, but I think Charlie was annoying him."

"Oh really? That's too bad." Rose's face took on a mysterious smile.

"What? What's that look for?" Bernard asked suddenly. He looked up at Hurley. "I know that look. We might be in trouble."

"What are you talking about, Bernard? I'm fine."

"Hmm… I've heard that when women say I'm fine, it really means that they're upset and want you to keep asking why to show you care."

"Now that's just silly. Men always give ridiculous advice like that." Rose sniffed disdainfully.

"I've heard worse advice…" Bernard said innocently.

"So, do you have any other comments on women, Hurley?" Rose asked.

"Look! The face is back. That's what she's been waiting to ask," Bernard exclaimed triumphantly.

"Stop talking nonsense, Bernard."

"Just because we've been apart doesn't mean I've forgotten how you are." Bernard was trying to look smug, but an affectionate smile shone through anyway.

"I just noticed that you've been talking to Claire a lot," Rose said, finally admitting her agenda. "I wondered if something was going on between you two."

Hurley grimaced. "Are you kidding? She and Charlie are practically picking out curtains. I mean, if we had curtains here."

"I know that they're together a lot, but whenever I've seen _you _two together, she looks so happy."

Hurley allowed himself to cautiously smile. "Really?"

"Yes. And I see that you've thought about this before, too?"

He sighed. "Only a little… if by a little you mean all the time."

"I knew it! I can always spot a crush."

Bernard chuckled. "Is Claire the blonde one with a baby?"

Hurley and Rose nodded.

"She's pretty. I think you should go for it. Couldn't hurt to try, right?"

Rose raised her eyebrows. "Oh, you think she's pretty, do you?"

Bernard put his arm around her shoulders. "Sure, but nothing compared to you."

Rose snorted. "Yeah, sure."

Bernard looked up at Hurley again. "I wouldn't be with Rose now if I hadn't asked her out until she got tired of saying no. If I can overcome that, you probably have a chance with this girl."

Rose chuckled. "Just be yourself and see what happens. I'm not saying you should propose or challenge Charlie to a duel or anything."

Hurley snapped his fingers and sighed dramatically. "Dang! I was planning on telling him to meet me in the jungle because it's going _down_!"

They all laughed. Hurley decided that he should probably leave before he revealed any other secrets to the surprisingly persuasive Rose, who had made him promise to eat dinner with them later.

Rather than continue his walk down the beach, Hurley went back to his spot. He had just gotten an idea of something that would keep him occupied and possibly win him a few points with Claire. Even if it didn't win him any "crush" points, he was pretty sure it would make her happy. He sat down and worked the rest of the day on his project.

The next day, he carried the result of his work to Claire's tent. He had seen Charlie leave for a shift in the hatch, so he knew he had at least 108 minutes to talk to Claire alone.

She greeted him cheerfully when he arrived, already staring curiously at the items in his arms—a piece of paper and several unboxed CDs.

"What's that?" she asked as soon as he sat down and set the stack down.

"It's a present." He smiled nervously.

"Really? All that? I can't take your CDs."

"No, see, it's just one CD. A mix CD."

She stared at the stuff quizzically. "Oh really?"

"Yup. See?" He handed her the piece of paper, which held a list of songs. "That's the playlist. Here are the CDs, in the order you should play them, and each CD has a little piece of paper on it saying which CD comes first and which tracks to play and stuff." He stuck the CDs into her hands, and she looked through them.

"Jack Johnson, Willie Nelson—haha, interesting—Run DMC… very interesting. Ooh, Death Cab!"

Hurley felt his face heat up and wondered if he was blushing. "Yep. I knew you liked it."

"'Passenger Seat'. I like that one," she said, reading which tracks he had marked on the CD. "Oh, and 'Transatlanticism'."

"Do you want to start listening? I'll change the CDs out for you if you want, so you can pretend that you really are listening to a mix CD, just with really long pauses." He realized that he sounded like he was groveling and shut up.

"Sure, sounds great. I didn't realize that this CD came with a personal slave," Claire teased.

"It's a one-time offer." He pulled his CD player out of his pocket and handed her the headphones, then stuck the first CD he had selected into the player.

"You know, I was kind of having a bad day, but this is making it better." She patted him on the knee, and he almost jumped out of his skin at the sudden, though innocuous, physical contact. She was wearing the headphones now, and had settled Aaron into her lap.

"Hey, wait," she said as he started the CD player. "You should listen, too. We could share the headphones like before."

"OK," he said, scared to say more. He moved slowly to sit closer to her, like someone trying to approach a butterfly without startling it and making it fly away.

Hurley was too distracted by Claire's proximity to really enjoy his makeshift CD. He didn't pay much attention to the music until one repeated line from "Transatlanticism" penetrated his haze.

_I need you so much closer…_

"This song has gotten stuck in my head before," Claire said suddenly. "Just this one line. Sometimes when I can't sleep at night, I hear it over and over, and its silly, because who would it even be about?"

Hurley didn't know what to say. He had never imagined Claire feeling lonely at night, or feeling anything like the ache of mysterious, confused longing like that he had felt so many times.

"It's a good line," he finally replied.

"Yeah. It really is."

They didn't talk anymore for the rest of the CD, but when Hurley accidentally moved his hand so close to Claire's that it brushed her fingertips, she didn't pull back. And for once, feeling brave, neither did he. Every song he heard after that was flavored with a mixture of anxiety and joy, the theme of his time with Claire, and he wished that the music would never stop.

A/N: All song quotes from songs by Death Cab for Cutie. Next chapter featuring a Claire POV, and more romance with _both_ of our heroes—what will happen? Please review!


	7. Truth or Dare

Author's note: This is a big chapter! Many exciting things happen. Please review!

Claire wasn't used to waking up to quiet. She had grown accustomed to being roused by Aaron's loud crying. When she opened her eyes that day, she was confused. The sun was in about the right position for early morning, which meant that Aaron should have been bawling for food by now. She sat up quickly, expecting to find the baby missing. Instead, she was greeted by a much more pleasant sight.

Charlie was sitting a few feet away, Aaron nestled in his arms. The baby looked slightly fussy, but Charlie was rocking him and singing a quiet song, keeping the crying fit at bay for a few more minutes so that Claire could sleep.

"Love you," Claire heard Charlie whisper to Aaron as he ended his lullaby.

Claire felt suddenly warm and contented. This was how having a baby should be. You were supposed to have someone with you, someone else who cared and worked at your side. This was how she had thought things would be with Thomas.

"Oh, hey, you're awake," Charlie said. "Are you hungry? I have the usual vast selection of fruit here. And I think the little guy's getting hungry, too."

"Yeah. I'm surprised he didn't wake me up before now."

"Well, I woke up early, and I picked him up before he could cry. You've seemed kind of tired lately."

"Lately?" Claire laughed. "Try… always. Thanks for letting me sleep a bit longer."

"It was my pleasure." Charlie scooted over to hand her Aaron, giving her a kiss on the forehead as he handed her the baby. "You look cute sleeping."

"But not awake?"

"It's basically a 24/7 cute parade around here. What with you, and Aaron… and of course, me."

Claire rolled her eyes but giggled, still feeling the afterglow of her pleasant awakening. "Of course." She leaned up to kiss Charlie's cheek.

"Hey," he teased. "I think you missed."

Claire's heart pounded. Although they often cuddled or held hands now, they hadn't had a real kiss yet.

"Oh really?" she said, feeling brave. "Maybe you should show me."

Charlie stared at her for a moment as though sizing up if she really meant it, then leaned forward slowly. He put his hand behind her head and leaned closer. Just before his lips touched hers, she flinched, and he pulled back.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know… nervous."

"Don't worry about it." He stood up and walked over to the water bucket.

"Charlie… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"I said don't worry about it. I'm not trying to rush you or anything."

Claire set her lips in a straight line. Charlie wouldn't try to push her, but she wanted things to move forward. She realized that she would have to push herself.

She jumped up, set Aaron in his cradle, and took the few steps across the tent that would place her by Charlie. His back was to her, and she nervously tapped his shoulder. He turned, startled, and before he could say anything, she stood on her tip-toes and pressed her lips to his. They both held still for a moment, getting used to the feeling, then their lips began to brush against each other more passionately.

The embrace was ended by Aaron, who began crying again. They awkwardly parted. Claire saw that Charlie's face wore the same expression of nervous pleasure that she could feel spreading across her own face.

"Guess you'd better feed him," Charlie said, his face still so close that she could feel his breath on her cheek as he spoke. She nodded silently. He reached up and gently traced her lower lip with his thumb, then finally pulled back.

Claire felt warm all over. This sweetness was what she had been waiting for, what had been growing between them. On this morning, she felt invincible. She forgot to be scared of what would happen or wonder if this was smart.

She and Charlie did the usual morning chores, taking care of Aaron and eating the usual makeshift breakfast. When Aaron was content, Claire sat down with him in her lap. Charlie sat down next to her, slung his arm around her waist, and laid his head on her shoulder.

"So," he said.

"So," she repeated.

"Happy?"

"Very."

"Good."

The rest of the day passed in a haze of domestic bliss. They kissed a few more times and held hands at every opportune moment. Claire enjoyed it, but she felt secretly nervous. It was like this was a dream, too good to be true, and her mind kept trying to wake up and face some harsh reality. She couldn't put a name to this feeling until she realized that this was the bliss she had felt in the early days of Thomas and all her other short-lived boyfriends. She and Charlie may have started out as platonic co-parents, but now they had started new wheels in motion. This was a real romance, and now the clock with ticking. If she lost him, she would lose twice as much as she would have before.

She tried to push these thoughts away and did a fairly good job of it. She would ignore her mind and catalogue every sensation in her body. Charlie's hands. Charlie's lips. Charlie's arms. It was easy to get lost in this.

That afternoon, Hurley appeared. Claire tensed a little. She had felt tension between him and Charlie lately. Worse than that, she had felt tension in herself when she was with him. He was so kind, so funny. He brought music, her favorite thing. He offered reassurance without demands. His lack of demands, however, were becoming their own kind of bondage. His adoring eyes and endless favors made her feel a weight of gratitude, like she should do something to make him happy. Everyday it became a little easier to imagine their hands touching again, or touching on purpose, or even more. Then she was left to wonder if she imagined these things out of pity, or out of her own escapist tendencies, or because she really wanted them.

Hurley ambled up. "Hey guys. I have an offer that you can't refuse."

Charlie was in too good of a mood to act cold. "Oh really?" he asked cheerily. "Go on."  
"Kate, Jack, and Sawyer want to know if you would like to play…" He raised his eyebrows dramatically.

"Strip poker?" Claire joked.

"Russian roulette with the remaining bullets?" Charlie guessed.

"Close. Truth or Dare."

"Truth or Dare? That's kid stuff," Charlie scoffed.

"Yeah, but it might be fun. It was Kate's idea, and her two love-slaves agreed. She told me to get more players so it will be more fun."

"Can I bring Aaron?" Claire asked.

"Sure. So you're in?"

"Yeah, why not?" Charlie said. "Nothing better to do."

A few minutes later, they were all settled in a circle. Ground rules were set up—no picking on the same person twice in a row, no dares dangerous enough to risk losing more islanders, and no dares involving Aaron. Kate went first.

"Claire. Truth or dare?"

"Umm… truth."

"What's the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you? And give details!" Kate grinned.

'"Hmm… well, when I was in high school…"

"This should be good. Everything in high school is embarrassing," Jack joked.

Claire chuckled. "I was going to class and my school had a lot of stairs. I was wearing a new skirt that was really short and tight, and I tripped, rolled down the stairs, and ripped my skirt. I took out, like, ten people when I was rolling, and everyone saw my underwear."  
"Was it sexy underwear? Because that might have been kind of hot, and then the story wouldn't be embarrassing." Sawyer smirked.

"No. It had monkeys on it. And bananas." Claire blushed, and the rest of the circle howled with laughter.

"OK, OK, my turn to pick someone." She looked around and decided to ask Jack. Kate had just had a turn, Sawyer was sure to make fun of her somehow, choosing Hurley might annoy Charlie, and choosing Charlie might be kind of obvious.

"Jack. Truth or dare?"  
"I guess I'll take a dare."

"OK. I dare you to…" She thought hard, then got an idea from her own story. "I dare you to go up to Sayid and ask him what color underwear he's wearing. _Without_ explaining that it's a dare."

Jack grimaced. "OK… I guess it could be worse." He hesitantly obeyed, with the rest of the circle watching from afar and laughing at Sayid's reaction. Even from 30 feet away, they could see his dark eyebrows go up and his mouth open in a uncharacteristically stunned expression.

The game went on. Claire had to do a fake striptease in front of Sun and Jin, then run away. Charlie was forced to admit that the last person he had slept with was a groupie. Hurley revealed that he hadn't been kissed until he was 18. Kate always chose dares when asked, and Jack and Sawyer did the same, giving each other competitive glares the whole time. Kate climbed the tallest tree in sight. Sawyer challenged Bernard to arm wrestle and had a surprisingly hard time winnning. Jack sang an a capella version of "I Will Survive", complete with disco moves.

Then, a few turns into the game, true awkwardness began. It was Sawyer's turn to give a Truth or Dare, and for some strange reason, he picked Claire. "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth."

"Chicken! Bawk, bawk, bawk…" Charlie teased.

"Fine! Fine! Dare!" She had decided to forego any future dares after the unfortunate Korean striptease, but she'd never been much good at resisting peer pressure.

"OK. I dare you to kiss ol' Jabba the Hutt."

Claire glared, immediately annoyed, both by Sawyer's name-calling and the content of his dare.

"Hurley. Kiss Hurley. A _real_ kiss. No pretending to miss."

"Sawyer!" Kate scolded.

"What? It's not _dangerous_. I don't see a problem here."

"You don't have to do it," Kate said to Claire.

"Gee, thanks. I feel so loved," Hurley cracked.

"She only has to do it if she's not a _chicken_," Sawyer added.

"Fine, fine. Whatever," Claire burst out.

"Claire…" Charlie said quietly. He raised his eyebrows in an inquisitive manner.

"It's just a dare," she whispered. Then she realized that Hurley had heard this quiet council, and looked like a puppy who'd just been kicked. On a sudden wave of mercy and affection, she stuck Aaron into Charlie's arms, leaned across the circle, put her arms around Hurley's neck, and kissed him.

His lips were a little fuller than Charlie's, and a little softer, but not as warm, or as firm. Hesitant lips. Hesitant, but not moving. The kiss was long, without her meaning for it to be, and not as light as she meant it to be, either. Once their lips were touching, it was easy to just stay that way. It wasn't a bad kiss. It was kind of nice.

It was Hurley who pulled back, his mouth slightly open, his face stunned.

"Damn. You sure didn't seem to mind that dare, Blondie," Sawyer exclaimed. Kate was biting her lip anxiously, eyebrows raised. Jack rubbed the back of his neck and avoided eye contact. Charlie stared at her stonily, then jumped up and stormed toward the jungle, still holding Aaron.

"Charlie!" she cried, leaping up and chasing after him.

"So does this mean the game is over?" Sawyer called. "Oops, my bad."

"Charlie!" Claire yelled again, now just a few feet behind him.

He stopped and spun around suddenly. "You were just waiting for that, weren't you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"A reason to kiss Hurley. You've probably had some practice, huh? I've seen how much you two hang out."

"Charlie, it's not like that."

"Then why did you kiss him for so long? Why did you take the dare at all? Don't you even care about us?"

"Us? What are we, Charlie? You act like we're married, but we've hardly know each other for more than a month. We didn't even kiss until today."

"Wasn't it good? Is that what this is about? You think he's better than me?"

"Charlie, it was just a dare! Why are you freaking out about this?"

Aaron burst into tears, upset by the yelling. "Give him to me," Claire demanded.

Charlie shoved Aaron into her arms. "Fine. Why don't you just take him and leave me alone? Apparently there is no 'us' anymore."

"Charlie, I didn't mean that." He ignored her, turning to go. "Charlie!"

"I hope you and Hurley are very happy together. Let's see if he'll love Aaron as much as I do." He broke into a run, refusing to even look back.

Claire felt tears streaming down her cheeks. How had things gone wrong so quickly? She should never have let herself feel safe so quickly.

She walked slowly back toward the tent. The only person she passed was Eko. They hadn't spoken before, but when he saw her expression, he stopped working on the wooden staff he was holding.

"Are you OK? What happened?"

"I'm fine. Fine, really. It's nothing." She started walking more quickly, but then thought better of it. When she reached her tent, she would just sit there alone and wallow in misery. She hated that. Maybe she should talk to someone while she had the chance. She walked over and sat next to the big man. "I just had a fight with someone."

"Are you hurt?"

"Oh, not like that, just an argument." She realized that she hadn't even introduced herself. "I'm Claire by the way. This is Aaron."

"My name is Eko." He paused. "Aaron? The brother of Moses?"

"Yeah." She was beginning to regret starting conversation. She didn't want to explain anything. She didn't even want to think about anything.

"Why did you choose it—Aaron?"

"I just liked it."

He opened his mouth like he was going to say more, but then didn't. She quickly spoke up, trying to change topics.

"So what are you writing?" She leaned a little closer to him to see the staff on which he was carving.

"Things I need to remember."

She read the small words. "Is that a Bible verse?"

"Yes. Do you read the Bible?"

She shook her head. She was suddenly reminded of Charlie's Virgin Mary statue, and she sighed and pressed her hand over her eyes.

"Are you sure you're alright?  
"Yeah, I just thought of something…"

"The Bible makes you upset?"

"No, it's this guy. This guy, my… friend, I guess, Charlie. He's religious, but he won't admit it. He carries around this statue of the Virgin Mary." She shifted Aaron's position in her arms and shook her hair out of her face.

Eko's calm face suddenly tensed. "Statue?"

"Yeah, he says he found it on the island. Weird, right?"

"May I see it?"

Claire thought the request was strange, but maybe Eko was extremely devout and wanted to pray to it or something. "Sure, our… I mean, my tent's right over here."

When they reached the tent and she pulled the statue out of Charlie's deserted stash of clothes, Eko got even more upset. "Where did he find this?"

Claire was getting a little scared by Eko's dramatic reactions. Maybe she shouldn't have brought a stranger to her tent. "He says he found it in the jungle," she answered slowly.

"Where in the jungle?"

"I don't know."

"Where?" He was practically shouting, and Claire flinched and held Aaron closer.

"Look, what are you…" she stuttered. "It's just a statue."

"Just a statue?" He set the statue on the makeshift table Charlie had set up and raised his stick. Claire jumped back, feeling like she might burst into tears again, but Eko's rage was aimed only at the statue. He smashed it, and a little bag of white powder fell out.

"Where is Charlie?" he demanded.

Claire gawked. "What is that? Is it…"

"Heroin. It was being smuggled."

"How did you know?" Claire's mind was reeling.

"It's a long story. Where's Charlie?"

"He ran into the jungle. Does this mean he… that Charlie is…"

"I don't know what it means. I have to find him."

"I'm sorry, I don't know where he went." Claire sank down and sat on the sand, feeling like she might throw up.

Eko looked at her with pity. "I'm sorry. I know this is a shock. Tell me if you need anything, but I have to go." He set off toward the jungle, a little bit of fury still apparent in the lines on his face.

Claire was remembering everything—times when Charlie had acted strange or secretive, times when Locke had talked to him and Charlie wouldn't explain what they'd been discussing, and most of all, a time when Charlie mentioned his past, and drugs. Apparently, it wasn't in the past. She had trusted her heart, and her safety, and her _baby_ to a druggie. She felt stunned, and underneath the stupor, angry. Angry at Charlie for deceiving her, and most painful of all, angry at herself for screwing up again.

A/N: Oh, the angst! Please review! Obviously, some of the dialogue between Claire and Eko is straight from the corresponding scene in the show.


	8. The Judgment

Author's note: Back after some time spent working on my X-Men story. Sorry this chapter took so long! At least it's a Charlie one! I know it's very grim, but this is just the grimmest part of the story. Next chapter will have more humor and such! Sorry for the stupid LATER divisions.

Charlie feared this part of the day more than anything. More than anything real on the island, even more than his nightmares.

He hated the moment in each day when he had to decide if he wanted to do it or not. If he wanted to change his path through the forest on the way to the caves, to turn aside and find his hiding place. It held only statues and white powder, how could they hurt him? But every time he opened the little cavern, a Pandora's box of horrors was revealed. His weakness. His guilt. The fact that he still could imagine the comfort that he would feel if he just gave in, took a sniff, went back to how he was. His body no longer cried out for it, but he could still remember and imagine the release and relief, the chemical lift that seemed to push his fears and worries far away, to turn them hazy.

It was particularly cruel that his nemesis had arrived encased in Virgin Mary statues, relics of his religious childhood that had given him both the fear and comfort of God. What did they hold now, if not the seeds of both fear and comfort? He thought of how Locke was always giving the island credit for having plans and purposes, doling gifts out and taking them away. Sometimes, as he looked into his dark secret, he imagined the island this way and hated it intensely for giving him the opportunity to mess up again, to fall back into his old ways, and for packaging it so lovingly in lost memories.

Most days, he resisted going to look at the statues. On most days when he gave in and went to find them, he resisted touching them. A few times, he had taken the little bags out, held them in his palms, such innocent little bundles. Then he'd shoved them back in harshly, like they had bitten him.

He had never opened them, never used them, never kept them in his pockets any more. He hadn't fallen.

Yet.

That was the word he feared the most in those days—yet. When the drugs were gone, it had died, but now they were back, and with them the choice that he had to make every day.

He was glad that he'd chosen right so far… but he hated that he hadn't been able to make himself throw them away, or even move the statue he kept in his backpack on the beach into his hidden spot, out of easy reach.

Yet.

He was living in fear of a day of judgment, but he couldn't tell who would judge him, or for what. But he knew that he was living in guilt, and that one day a ray of light would fall upon his hidden sins. He had always known that.

LATER

Charlie was puzzled. He had only been gone for a little while, and he was walking back to Claire's spot as usual, but when he got there, she was packing something into a bag.

He got a little closer. She was packing _his_ things into a bag. His heart leapt, gave him a little shock, of fear rather than surprise, as though he'd somehow been expecting this.

"Claire?" he asked tentatively as he reached the spot where she knelt.

"You lied to me, Charlie." She wouldn't meet his eyes.

Charlie felt like a fist had just grabbed his guts and twisted them together. He felt guilt, shock, anger. He felt _caught._

"I know I did. I'm sorry. I just…" He stammered, trying to find a way to explain that would show how he felt, how he was trying to change, why he couldn't give it all up. "It made me feel safer to have it around," he finished lamely. It was true, so true, but even to his own ears it sounded like a weak lie.

"Look, I can't have you around my baby, okay?" Not Aaron, but "my baby." She was drawing a line and putting him on the other side of it.

Charlie felt himself transform in her eyes, change into a dangerous person, a bad influence, a screw-up. The things he knew he was. Here was judgment day. Then the meaning of her words hit him. No more Aaron? Aaron was the only person he trusted himself to never hurt. He had to make her see. "Claire, I…"

She didn't let him finish. "Charlie, I don't want you sleeping anywhere near us, okay? Just go." She sounded a little hurt, a little angry, but mostly cold. Determined. Nothing like herself.

He gave up. He surrendered. He walked away. If he hadn't been focused on trying not to seem crazy, he would have run. Everything had changed, and he could only blame himself. He had nothing but his old habit and the cold, plaster statues it was hidden in to comfort him now. A cold exchange for Claire and Aaron. He didn't know how he would ever trade back.

LATER

Charlie wished he could find something bad to say about them. He was so angry, so hurt, feeling so defrauded and lost. But he couldn't blame them. She was only mad at him for keeping the drugs. He was only comforting her because… now Charlie wasn't there to do it. It had been a week since his banishment, and this was the cruelest moment yet.

He had been walking past, about twenty feet away, the closest he could get without Claire giving him a look. Sometimes a look of anger, which hurt. More often a look of fear, which felt even worse. He glanced over, waiting to meet whichever look she chose to send to him that day, but she wasn't looking. He was surprised, but that was what had hurt the worst. She wasn't looking, because she was in Hurley's arms.

He wished that he could criticize Hurley, like if he could say that he was just trying to cop a feel, or even that he looked happy to be holding Claire. But he didn't. It wasn't an embrace of attraction. One arm was around her shoulders, and the other hand stroked her hair. She was tucked against him, almost in his lap, but not with her arms around him. She was just slumped against him, her hands splayed against his broad chest, her face blank and cold. She stared into space and leaned on him without seeming to notice him. His eyes were downcast, trying to see her face, his own face heavy with sadness. He was sad because she was sad, regardless of the fact that she was sad because of another man.

Charlie couldn't shake the picture from his mind. It was full of things to hurt him. Claire, just seeing her. Claire sad. Claire sad, because of him. Claire being held by someone else. And though he hated the fact that it made him sad, Hurley, so much in love with someone so far away from him.

He wondered if he was deceiving himself when he thought that she was still distant from Hurley. Now he spent part of every day at her tent, moving things for her, lending her CDs, holding Aaron (still a little awkward in his baby handling). He brought her food. He watched Aaron while she slept… and her. Another mental picture that stung Charlie was the sight of Hurley holding Aaron, Claire sleeping next to him in seemingly perfect peace.

_Charlie, I don't want you sleeping anywhere near us, OK?_

He was cast away now.

LATER

He was a wanderer. The other survivors didn't shun him, but they didn't look at him the same. He didn't think that Claire had told them what had happened, but they knew that something was wrong. Besides, he didn't really want to talk. He didn't have anything good to say anymore.

It was a strange impulse when he talked to her. He wouldn't have, but as he walked by and pretended not to see her, he realized that every time someone did that to him, he felt hurt. It wasn't that he wanted to talk to them, exactly. He just hated how he was automatically ignored.

"Hi," he said bravely.

She had been sitting, staring out at the ocean, and she slowly turned her head toward him, her dark eyes narrowed. "Hi," she echoed, her voice twisting his word into a sarcastic comeback (an impressive feat for two letters).

"It's Ana Lucia, right?"

"Yep. Glad to know I'm being discussed. I didn't catch your name."

"Charlie."

"Nice to meet you, Charlie. Are you looking for a brush with danger? Talking to the scary murderer?"

"I dunno, that depends. Do you feel like slumming by talking to the druggie outcast?"

"Not really. But you can sit down anyway." She looked back toward the ocean as though dismissing him, and he sat down. What did he have to lose?

They didn't talk much at first. Neither one of them wanted to explain things about their past, especially not their past on the island. They small-talked a little. Charlie played guitar and Ana Lucia made fun of him. She told dirty jokes that indicated that her previous employment had been as neither a nun nor a schoolteacher.

They ignored people that walked by. They often ignored each other. Still, it was nice not to sit alone.

A/N: Sorry for the long update time! Hurley chapter next! Please review.


	9. Best Day Of Your Life

Hurley wasn't sure why he started thinking about this question—the best day of his life. Maybe it was because his days were currently so divided between the sublime and the disappointing.

He was with Claire now. "With." That seemed like the right vague preposition. He ate with her. He talked with her. He took care of Aaron with her (with the help of Locke and other islanders, of course). He even slept with her… if by with you meant under the same roof. He was her confidante. He was her friend. He might even be… her what? Her man.

But something was missing.

Claire was missing.

Her sweet smile and ready laugh weren't there. Her easy conversation wasn't there. Her energy, and the focused way she used to look at people (that way that made him feel like the only guy on the island)… they were gone. She was still sweet, still kind, still pretty, but she wasn't happy.

Sometimes she was silent, and when she talked, her words often came back to him.

Charlie.

Charlie used to make people scared to come up to her tent, Charlie was a liar, Charlie always bossed her around about Aaron. All complaints, all negatives, but taking up so much of her time that they created the impression that he was always near, waiting to appear between them like a ghost.

Sometimes he was literally near, walking as close by the tent as he could without drawing a glare from Claire. Dark shadows under his eyes, an impatient swagger to his walk, jealousy in his gaze.

Charlie, cute little rock star, jealous of big loser Hurley. Who would have imagined that?

But Hurley would have given this privilege up gladly if he could just have believed, even for a little while, that Claire really wanted him. That she thought he was handsome and charming and useful.

Hurley winced every time he thought of the night when Charlie had grabbed Aaron. It was painful because it had been so startling and chaotic, and Hurley had come to think of Aaron as at least a little of his own responsibility, but it was the most painful because it was Locke who stepped in to save the day. Locke who told Charlie off, Locke who kicked Charlie's ass and handed Aaron back to Claire like the hero of the day. Hurley had just stood back indecisively, surprised, wondering if he should rush in. Locke took action. Hurley couldn't even compete with guys other than Charlie for Claire's gratitude.

He lived for the moments when he saw a flash of her happiness come back. These moments usually came during a whimsical, pointless conversation, the kind they used to have when Charlie was away from the tent that he used to share with her. Talk about how things were back home, or dreams, or music.

The sweet moment came today by courtesy of ramen noodles.

"Oh, Lord, I used to live on those things!" Claire exclaimed when Hurley brought her a little box of dried noodles from the hatch. "I'm speaking almost literally here. I swear I ate them for a week straight. Them and cereal and Coke." She held the box in her hand and laughed. "I was kind of poor after I moved out on my own."

Hurley smiled, encouraged by her enthused reaction. "Yeah, I lived on my own for a while, but I usually managed to get leftovers from my job to eat."

"Ugh, I did that, too. The Fish'n'Fry. It seems ironic that I would end up on an island with fish as main source of protein. I used to wish that I would never eat a fish again."

"I usually worked more at chicken joints. It takes a while to get sick of chicken." Hurley was holding Aaron, rocking him slowly back and forth. Aaron still tended to get a little fussy with him. He never used to with Charlie.

"Were you working at a chicken place before the crash? I just realized, you've never told me why you were in Hawaii."

The lottery, ugh. Hurley didn't want to explain. He quickly composed a partially true explanation.

"Yeah, I was working at Mr. Clucky's, but then I quit. I got a little bit of money unexpectedly and I hadn't had a vacation in… well, ever, so I decided to go to Australia." Not too far from the truth, and omitting the unlikely-sounding lotto win, the loss of all his friends, and the trek to another continent to find a crazy man's widow.

"Ah, I see." Claire didn't press him for information. He wondered if it was because she was sensitive or because she didn't care, didn't feel close to him. He wished for the first option.

"Why were you going to L.A.?"

She looked down, her face taking on a sad half-smile as she played with her wrist cuff. "I was going to meet a couple in Los Angeles."

"A couple?"

She looked up, her bright blue eyes almost startling when they appeared so quickly. "I was going to give Aaron up for adoption."

"Oh." Hurley wished he had something better to say. "That's OK"? "Good for you"? "At least you like him now"?

"Yeah, you know, Thomas left and my family wasn't much in the picture."

"Dude, I totally understand. That would suck." Hurley reached over and stroked a piece of Claire's hair out of instinct, then immediately felt shy and like he was overstepping his boundaries. Why did he always have to have that moment of doubt?

His doubt disappeared when she tilted her head a little to press her cheek against his hand. Instantly, his day when from horrible to great. Any moment when Claire seemed like she might care about him, might even want to touch him—these moments transformed everything.

That must have been why he asked the question.

"What was the best day of your life?" he blurted out.

"Hmmm," Claire said thoughtfully, looking deep in thought. She still liked talking over random things with him, answering weird questions. That was a good sign, right?

"I think mine was a night, not a day, is that all right?"

"Sure." He felt himself smiling nervously the way he always did when he looked at her too long.

"OK, well, I went to a drive-in movie with a bunch of my friends. They had just built it, see, and it was kind of out in the country, and you could see a double feature for hardly any money."

Hurley felt like laughing. Getting cheap movie tickets was the best day of her life?

"So we went there, and it was this really nice night with lots of stars and no mosquitoes, and we saw the movies, and then after they were over we were all laying in the back of this one guy's truck, listening to music playing on the stereo inside. I felt really great, like nothing was worrying me, like everything I said was OK and everyone was happy." She paused, smiling down into her lap like she could still see the scene in front of her eyes. "Thomas was there, and he pulled me out of the truck and I acted like I didn't know why, but I did, and he asked me out, and we kissed for like, a really long time…" She laughed. "Sorry, TMI, I know, but we did, and when I got home it was just getting to be dawn and I saw a really great sunset. And I hung out with Thomas all the next day, kind of napping on and off and watching TV and eating junk food."

Hurley could imagine the day from hearing her tell it, from seeing her happy face as she pictured it all again.

"So what was your best day?" Claire asked, snapping out of her momentary happy trance.

"Hmm…" Hurley honestly couldn't think of a truly good day. The lottery day was pretty good, but he didn't want to explain that to her, plus the goodness of it was overshadowed by the bad things that followed it. His day with Johnny when he quit his job and asked out Starla was pretty fun, but it had been ruined by its unfortunate ending. He had to admire Claire's ability to enjoy her memory of her day, even though things with Thomas had ended so badly. He wished he could compartmentalize things so well. He was generally optimistic, but when things in his life became associated with other, bad things, he couldn't separate anything out of the rush of dread that hit him. That was the defining quality of his time of depression—a fear that hit him, and then stayed there to smother him, a weight pushing him down, in every way.

"I can't think of a perfect day," he finally said. "I'll have to think about it some more."

"Well, mine wasn't perfect, but you know." Claire scooted over so that she was sitting next to him and laid her head on his shoulder. He longed to put his arm around her, but he wasn't comfortable enough with Aaron yet to hold him without both hands. He settled for tilting his own head so that it rested on hers. He luxuriated in the closeness and pretended that it meant that Claire was glad that he was the one beside her.

Another part of the duties he had inherited from Charlie was the responsibility of taking care of Aaron while Claire napped or took a walk. He usually tried to get a girl to help him, as traditional-gender-roles as that sounded. After he had left Claire to nap, probably dreaming of drive-in movies, he cautiously shuffled down the beach, staring down at Aaron every few seconds to make sure that he was OK.

This cautious approach backfired, because it caused him to walk right into Libby before he even realized she was passing by. She gasped at the collision, regained her balanced, then laughed, to his relief. "Hi there."

"Oh hey, I'm sorry! I didn't see you. Baby-watching, you know?" Hurley felt like he was babbling like a chimp. Or a stoner.

"It's OK. You didn't mean to." Libby slid her hands into her back pockets and smiled, and Hurley decided that maybe she wouldn't mind if he asked for help, even after practically mowing her down.

"Do you know anything about babies? I was kinda hoping I could get someone to help me watch this guy for a little while."

Libby tilted her head to the side and did one of her smiles where her eyes crinkled kind of anxiously. (It was a strange thing for him to notice. He usually wasn't too good at picking up vibes.) "Yeah, I guess I could help."

"You probably won't even need to do anything. I just get all nervous being so responsible all alone."

"Yeah, I understand." Libby reached out and touched Aaron's hand with one finger, like he was a piece of glass that could be broken. Hurley understood that feeling, but for some reason he had envisioned Libby being more confident. She seemed like she would be maternal or something.

He didn't have any good small talk. He often felt a little awkward and resorted to random statements, but right then, all he could think about was Claire.

"You OK?" Libby asked. He jumped, startled that his mood was showing on his face.

"Yeah, I am. Totally." He rocked Aaron in what he hoped was a comforting and casual way.

"OK, fine, don't tell me what's wrong." Libby smiled, with out the worried eyes this time, and Hurley had the sudden startling realization that she was kind of a babe. That just made him feel even more uncomfortable.

"It's nothing, really."

"Oh, so there is an 'it' you're worried about?"

"Hey, stop acting like a shrink… oh wait… aren't you…"

Libby laughed. "Yeah. Pretty much."

"Oh. OK." He clammed up, remembering his months at Santa Rosa, with pills and stupid games and hours of "How did that make you _feel_, Hugo?"

"It's just… this thing with Claire." He was shocked to hear his own voice admitting that. It had leapt out. Maybe from his natural inability lie smoothly, or maybe as an instinctive reaction to shrink vibe. Or maybe Libby being hot had bewildered him.

"Claire? I've noticed you two are always together. Is it like…" Libby trailed off suggestively, raising her eyebrows, and Hurley sighed.

"Well, see, not exactly, that's kind of the problem." He found himself pouring out the story from the beginning, from the first time he watched Claire and Charlie from afar and wished to be in a tight little circle like that, and then the wish grew to a wish for only Claire.

Libby nodded and made sympathetic sounds and asked good questions in that psychologist way, but when he finally finished, she surprised him. Instead of just summing up his problems and giving him some solution that would make him feel like an idiot, she put her hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes. "I'm sorry. It must hurt." She rubbed his arm as though she were rubbing out his pain like a sore muscle, or erasing his sadness.

"Is that all you're gonna say?" he stammered, still waiting for the psychoanalytical axe to drop.

"Yeah. I've made this new rule for myself that the one topic I don't give anyone advice on is love." She smiled; the wrinkly eyes were back. "I thought it might help to talk."

"It did." He paused. "Any reason for the new rule?"

"Maybe I'll tell you sometime. You can analyze my problems." She ran her fingers through her tangled blond curls, and Hurley found his eyes following her hand's path. Then they fell back down to her kind face.

"Do you want to walk with me and Aaron again tomorrow?" he asked, and beamed back when she responded with a grin and a friendly "Sure."

It was nice to talk to someone who knew what he was feeling. It had been too long since he had done that.

He walked back to Claire's tent slowly, looking down at Aaron, but thinking of something else.


End file.
